The Pirates
by A Twisted Vine
Summary: Zuko catches Katara off gaurd with a little bit of roleplaying.  ZK


Written for the Zutara Fic Meme over at Livejournal. Someone had requested Zuko and Katara roleplaying earlier encounters. Just a silly little drabble. ;)

It was odd the way things turned out sometimes.

Katara blew on the soup she was stirring, tried to quiet the coming boil back to a simmer. She stared down at the pot and saw only reds and brown, the occasional peek of vegetable or piece of rabbit-squirrel. For good measure, she added a dash of chili powder. She was still trying to get the hang of Fire Nation chow, but she was determined to fix Zuko a good dinner.

In spite of everything, even five years after the war there was still an impossible amount of things that needed fixed in the world, and the Fire Lord came home burnt out (no pun intended) more often than not.

The pot was bubbling over. Katara bit her lower lip, tried to smother some of the flame out beneath her stew. Why did everything heat up so quickly in the fire na-

She screamed. Two strong arms grabbed her from behind, jerked her away from the heat. She tried to regain her balance, tried to spin in the tight grip to face her captor, but her back was pressed firmly against a hard chest.

"You're losing your edge," a low voice accused smugly in her ear.

Katara scowled, "Maybe I wasn't expecting my husband to sneak up on me like that, Fire _Lord_ Zuko."

She was pissed. And she knew he liked it, which pissed her off even more. Katara refused to look at him.

"Thought I'd drop by and surprise you." He didn't like her wording, 'sneak up.' He hadn't done _that at all._ She just wasn't listening intently enough to hear tiptoes.

Not his problem.

"You can let go of me now," the waterbender pointed out, trying not to be amused. "Your dinner's burning…"

He turned her around in his arms, and she glared up at him defiantly, eyes smoldering, and saw that he'd let his top-knot down, brown hair falling in shaggy waves. God she liked his hair that way.

But he wasn't getting off that easy. Hours of labor was turning to black ash on the hearth. "Zuko. Let me go. _Now_."

And suddenly, he released her. And though she knew he'd only given her what she asked for, Katara felt disappointed. The young women humphed softly, and then moved to turn back to her stew.

But then, just as quickly as he'd done it before, she was pinned up against the wall, his arms on either side of her head, and he was smirking. Like a hot, sexy idiot. "I don't feel like it," he drawled coolly. "I'd rather keep you right here."

He saw her fingers twitched, and grabbed her hands, pinned them above her head. The stream of water she'd lifted from the vase of fire lilies fell to the floor with a splash. She pulled at the grip, growled under her breath. "This isn't funny. I'm not in the mood."

He pressed her against the wall with his body, pushing her legs apart with his knee. Her eyes shot open, body tense. God, she was a liar. She felt her body pulsing, his warm breath playing across her cheek. His mouth was hot and wet on her ear. "Don't worry Katara; I'll save you from the pirates."

_Oh God_, Zuko, why did he say things like that? So… so… _silly_. She felt herself turning red, felt the rumble in his chest as he spoke, and couldn't stop the shudder that ran down her spine. And she knew he felt it, as he smiled against her neck, as his tongue drew wet circles down her collarbone. And she breathed sharply, arching against his solid form, pulling at the grip he still had on her wrists.

"Go jump in the river," she murmured, breathless.

And something snapped. Zuko pulled her against him, roughly, gold eyes molten and serious in a way that made her heart race. And he threw them both on the floor, pinned her under his heavy weight, and then captured her lips, hot and desperate. She grasped at his sides, trying to get leverage as he pressed her into the ground.

He pulled his mouth from hers, went back to her neck, and she moaned as he took turns between biting and licking at her skin. "Try to understand," he breathed, drew a line with his tongue down her chest, hands tugging feverishly at her robes. "I need to restore something I've lost."

Katara threw her head back, hitting the wooden floor. She was digging her nails into his shoulders, trying to wrench him down further as he worked his way lower. "What," she gasped, "restore what?"

He groaned against her shivering flesh, pulled his face back to her neck, the hot wet circles from his tongue driving her mad. She wanted to scream. She couldn't take this. He was biting her earlobe, panting against her skin. "My honor," he bit out, trying to concentrate on not grinding her into the floor as she writhed against him. "I need to restore my honor."


End file.
